#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Friends in the river––last swim together

You could make this beautiful,

but you don’t need to,

living is this fleshy side of the bone,

going on is this medicinal smell of the sun—

no dog ever tires of seeing his life

keep showing up at the back door

even as a rotting bone with a bad smell;

feet tottering, he dreams of it,

wakes and licks no matter what.

~ Excerpt from Joanna Carlsen, “Over and over Tune”

My habit is switching back to early awakening. The light is changing. Or, I am changing. Both. Before rising, I am half-dozing and thinking about the feedback last night for my poem and trying to hear in my head the two lines that need to change; I listen and try, listen and try. Finally, I open the poem and apply some ideas and finally, finally, I feel that the better lines are conceived. The best lines. The ones that really belong. Then, I meet my friend at Medfield State for our last walk with the dogs—she is sending hers on ahead by a few days, so they must start their journey west. Charlie is with me, not Suzi, I’m not sure she’s up to it in this heat. The dogs are hot. We take them to the canoe launch at the river for a swim. Their last swim together in the Charles. They have their swim, we have our talk about parting. Still, the goodbye, thankfully lingers as good goodbyes do––I see her at the dock in the afternoon for a swim in the hot hot sun. The water is very warm. I swim to the pump house. There is no one else in the pond! Later we learn the pond is closed for bacteria. Oh well. It’s a pretty magical swim anyway. Then, tonight, a mutual dear friend hosts a small dinner for more goodbye-ing; a lovely, intimate time in the warm evening. Everything, every living being, needed watering today. I watered where I could.